Kitty's House of Horrors (kn-7) Carrie Vaughn (philippa perry book TXT) 📖

She looked at Jeffrey, gave him some expression I couldn’t see. He shrugged and said, “I’m curious to see what would happen.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay. We can try it.”

Sounding amused, Conrad said, “So, you have a watch on a chain? A crystal ball or something?”

“No,” Grant said. “Lie down on the sofa, here. Everyone else, you can watch, but keep your distance.”

Under the gathering’s watchful, curious stares, Tina moved to the sofa and lay down. Jeffrey didn’t leave her side. He sat on the edge, near her knees. She shifted to give him room, and they both looked at Grant, daring him to argue. The magician didn’t. He moved a pillow under her head and asked if she was comfortable. She shifted and fidgeted for a moment, then settled. Even I could tell she was tense. The room smelled tangy. It wasn’t just the smell of a house filled with people and growing ripe; it was nerves, tension. Lee and Jerome, the other lycanthropes, glanced at me. All our noses were flaring. This was getting thick.

Grant knelt by the sofa near Tina’s head.

“Relax,” he said, his voice soft, steady. “Take a deep breath. In, and out.”

He managed to project even more intensity than usual. Like he had collected all his focus, which had been spread equally around the room, observing, and pointed it toward her. If he had pointed all that attention toward me, I’d probably have jumped out of my skin. Never mind relaxing.

I had to say something: “I’m sorry, weird question, and if I don’t ask now I’ll forget.”

I expected the glare Grant gave me. But it was an indulgent glare—he knew me pretty well by this time. “Yes?”

“Are psychics like Tina more or less susceptible to hypnotism? You know, are their minds more receptive to being open like that, or do they actually have stronger defenses against that kind of prying?”

Grant said, “I wouldn’t call it prying. When it’s done well, it’s more like drawing back a curtain. It all depends on how cooperative the subject is. We’ll find out soon how cooperative Ms. McCannon is.”

“Just get on with it,” Tina said.

Grant raised a brow, asking my permission. I ducked out of the way.

“All right,” he said, returning his attention to Tina. “Again. Relax. Breathe in, and out.” He spoke slowly, calmly, and in moments her breathing matched the rhythm of his speech. He didn’t use any of the movie “you’re getting very sleepy” clichés. He just spoke softly, rhythmically, creating a mood, like the peace of a gently rocking boat. I was getting a little woozy listening to it.

The room was dead quiet.

“You’re in a dark room, safe and warm. Protected. You feel calm and powerful. Nothing can touch you here. Warm, protected, very safe. In a moment, a light will come on, slowly. A soft, warm light is growing brighter. You start to see what else is in the room. Tina, do you remember the séance you performed a short while ago?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her lips barely moving.

“Go back to the start of the séance. Remember what you felt. What you saw. Replay those events, those feelings. Remember what contacted you. What happened first?”

Her lips moved; the words came slowly. “It’s moving. I can’t feel my hands. I know when it starts because I can’t feel my hands.” Her brow furrowed. Grant murmured words of comfort.

“Jeffrey is helping,” she said. “They trust Jeffrey.”

“Who trusts Jeffrey?”

“Them.” She wet her lips. “Natalie. Conrad’s sister. She’s with him, looking after him. She’s worried—”

“Now, wait just a minute—” Conrad said, lurching forward. Anastasia caught his arm, held him back. He looked hard at her, as if surprised by the strength of her grip. He met her gaze. And I bet that gave him a shock.

Conrad stayed back and stayed quiet.

“That was the first contact you made during the séance,” Grant said, his tone never wavering. “Move forward now. You tried again.”

“Asked a question. Who hooks up.” She smiled a little.

“You felt something.”

Tina’s smile vanished. “No.”

“You’re safe here. The room is protected. The scene playing now is only an image, a memory. You can see the memory very clearly. It can’t hurt you.”

She shook her head, just a little. “It’s here, closing around the house.”

“What is?”

“It’s ugly. No.”

Jeffrey reached for her hand, but Grant shook his head sharply, warning him away.

“Whatever you saw, it can’t hurt you here,” Grant said. “You have control over this memory. What do you see? What is it, closing around the house?”

“Hate,” she said.

Grant pursed his lips. “Where does the hate come from?”

“It’s a plan—it’s all part of the plan. I can’t see the plan, I can only see what it means, and it’s full of hate. Nobody makes it, nobody—” She grimaced, her head started shaking, and a whine began in her throat, at the edge of a scream. Her whole body tensed. The hair on my neck bristled.

Grant leaned in. “The light is fading, Tina. It’s growing dim, fading to a warm, comforting darkness. You’re resting, relaxed in every part of your body. Your mind is relaxed, your breathing is relaxed. When I count to three, you’ll awake rested, aware, in full control of your memory and yourself. One… two… three…”

She opened her eyes. Looked at Grant, then at Jeffrey. She let out a long sigh.

“So what’s out there?” Jerome said, moving closer, from the outskirts of the gathering. “What’s closing in?”

She rubbed her face; her frown was despairing. “I couldn’t see it. It was almost…” She shook the thought away. Jeffrey took her other hand and squeezed tightly.

Urgent, Jerome continued. “Is it a person? An animal? A thing? Another one like us? What?”

“I said I don’t know!” She sat up, glaring. Her hands were shaking.

“Whole lot of good that does us,” the wrestler said, turning away.

Lee said, “I’m not trying to criticize, or question you, but could this maybe be paranoia? We’re in the middle of nowhere, in a weird situation—”

“I’m a paranormal investigator,” she said.